Prove It
by changeling17
Summary: Malik -a.k.a Yami Marik- is not the person anyone wants to encounter in a dark alley. When this happens to Marik, he is "saved" by an old ally with white hair and beautiful eyes. Thief/Bronze-onesided/Marik NOT totally submissive! seme Marik seme Bakura
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This was originally going to be a oneshot, but I like how it's cuts off at the suspenseful part.**

**P.S. In this fic Malik is the Yami and Marik is the hikari, only because I wanted Marik to be the hikari and I needed a separate name for the Yami. Sorry if anyone gets confused.**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Yu-Gi-Oh!, then Tea would be dead and the Pharaoh would be in love with me. Unfortunately Tea is still alive and the Pharaoh is NOT my boyfriend, so use your brain.**

Prove It

Marik Ishtar was walking home after visiting the Egyptian exhibit at the Domino museum for the umpteenth time, when he felt a presence behind him, arms around his waist, and breath on the back of his neck. Then a voice he knew all too well whispered in his ear, "Wanna go?"

It was the voice of his former yami.

Marik became slightly nervous but maintained a calm facade. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? I really wish you would stop hitting on me, I don't swing that way."

"Of course not." The spiky-haired boy breathed into Marik's ear.

"Leave me alone, I need to go home!" Marik cried exasperatedly, pushing the taller boy away.

"Can I come?"

"No!"

"Please?" the former yami purred, grabbing hold of Marik's waist again.

"Am I interrupting something?" came a voice with a sneer in it from behind the two. Bakura.

"Yes, I was just about to take Marik home." Replied Malik, smirking challengingly at the white-haired boy.

"No, you weren't. Now leave me alone!" Marik huffed, attempting to push the taller boy away from him.

"You don't want to get on my bad side." the darkness breathed threateningly into Marik's ear.

Real fear awakened in Marik now. So far his former tormentor had been merely playful, but Marik had been dreading the awakening of his sadistic side. But Marik recognized the tone in the other boy's voice. Marik was quite familiar with his former yami's cruelty. Malik had never tried to abuse him sexually before, but this was most likely due only to the fact that they had not had separate bodies until recently.

Marik remembered the event well; the horrible pain of having a spirit that was once part of him ripped away mercilessly. He had asked prior to their separation what would happen to him because his "yami" was _actually_ his alter ego, unlike Yugi's and Ryou's. The girl had explained that if Yami Marik had developed to the point that he was able to inhabit Marik's body and expel Marik's spirit from it, then he was evolved enough to basically be a separate person, and therefore would be separated from Marik the same way that the other two yamis would be separated from their hikaris.

Marik had screamed so loudly when he felt what seemed like his soul being ripped apart, but he remembered that his screams had been nothing when compared with the girl's. Marik could only imagine what she had gone through. Marik's own soul was being rent, along with the other two hikaris beside him, but she was using all of her own energy to give the yamis physical form. Enough life for six people had been sucked out of her violently. She narrowly survived the experience, one that would have killed anyone but her. But her species was filled with nothing but raw energy. She had quickly become Marik's best friend once she regained consciousness. After all, she had done Bakura and himself a huge favor. Her destiny and duty had been solely to resurrect the Pharaoh. She had offered to separate his and Bakura's yamis as well, and the Pharaoh had not been thrilled, (he could get rather protective of her, but it was two-sided) but had said that he understood that she should do what she felt she had to for her friends.

And so he and his Yami had become separate, and he had finally had peace of mind.

But now Malik had come for him.

Marik was interrupted from his thoughts by the feeling of hot fingers sliding under his shirt and feeling over his chest.

Marik let out a slight yelp of surprise and his eyes widened in fear, but he knew that he would have to comply with Malik's demands. It was either that or allow the spiky-haired boy to beat him viciously, take him, and then kill him once he'd gotten what he wanted.

The heat of the fingers was unexpected and rather unpleasant. It made Marik feel sticky, trapped, and slightly claustrophobic.

Marik closed his eyes tight. He would not call for help, he would not beg for mercy, it would only get him killed. He would stay silent and hope that if he did not complain Malik would keep him alive.

Even so, Marik could not help letting out a small whimper when Malik started to drag him away towards his house. He did not want this. Dammit, he was not gay!

"I believe he told you to leave him alone." Shit. Marik had completely forgotten that Bakura was there, and now Bakura was trying to start something.

"Oh really? I don't see him resisting." Marik could clearly hear the psychotic sneer in Malik's voice.

"Maybe that's because he's afraid of you." Bakura sneered back.

Marik could not help but be slightly offended by this. Even if it was true, the condescending tone in Bakura's voice was unmistakable.

"Maybe he has good reason to be." Malik hissed menacingly. The psychotic, sadistic mirth in his voice making Marik's spine go cold and his heart start pounding.

Bakura seemed completely unfazed by the threat and sauntered up so that he was only a foot or so away from the pair. "Well then maybe he should fill me in, because I don't see anything remotely threatening about you."

"Good idea," Malik replied. "Marik, tell him why he should be afraid of my power."

"Bakura,"Marik said shakily, I think that you should just go, before you get us both killed."

Bakura's blood red eyes went as hard as diamonds. He smirked, and it made him look terrifyingly dangerous. "Isn't that sweet," Bakura sneered, "little Marik's trying to keep me safe from the big bad porcupine."

Marik didn't quite know what happened next. He could feel himself flying through the air, and then slamming into a hard surface, most likely the wall of a building, and he fathomed that Malik had thrown him aside. He had hit his head against the wall, and everything started to get fuzzy. He looked up and the effort hurt his head. He had to see who would win this. Whoever it was it was most likely bad for him. _Get away while they're distracted._ He thought rather incoherently. He tried to drag himself away but the movement made his head swim and his arms gave out. He hit the ground with a thud and the last thing he saw before he blacked out was the glint of a silver dagger plunging down towards a mass of white.

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	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: LOLL (yes that stands for laugh out loud loud...um...it suits me.) I'm starting this in the middle of the night...I wonder how late I'll stay up writing this...I'll let you know.**

**CHAPTER 2! YAY!**

When Marik awoke he couldn't open his eyes. At all. He tried again and again to get his eyelids to do his bidding, but the stubborn things would not oblige. It felt as though something was sticking them together. He shook his head slightly in frustration and soon regretted it. His head ached.

Since sight seemed to be a luxury he would not be granted, Marik decided to explore his surroundings with his remaining senses.

All he could hear was the faint sound of cars further off than they should be considering the fact that he was supposed to be lying in an alley next to a busy street. He could smell something vague that gave him that odd feeling you get when you think you _should _remember something, but you are also aware that you have never experienced it before, and yet it seems as though it could have once been familiar. This train of logic started to make his head hurt, and he groaned and shifted a little in discomfort. It was then that Marik realized that he wasn't lying on pavement like he expected, but instead on something soft and oddly bed-like. Seized with a new necessity to be able to see his surroundings Marik brought his hand toward his face to aid his lids in opening. His hand stopped a little over a foot from his face and he heard a loud jingle of metal at the same time as a tug on his wrist.

At this Marik realized what you have probably already figured out; he was _chained to a bed._

This caused the blonde's eyes to snap open at last as he bolted upright, completely alert.

As Marik slowly calmed down **(A/N: LOLL calm your horse... ha ha inside joke...) **his eyes focused on the mercifully dark space he was in. Upon glancing around himself, Marik saw that he was in a rather spacious bedroom of what he could only assume was an apartment from the large panorama window set in the wall next to him. Almost as soon as he came to this conclusion, however, the Egyptian realized that it was not a window, but a gigantic painting in a gilded frame that was hung on the wall beside him.

Marik assessed his situation with the air of one all too used to being in dangerous situations. Both his wrists were chained to the bedposts, sturdy looking things that he doubted he would be able to break through for several days if he had been in good condition (and, let's face it, he wasn't). The chains, too, were obviously very strong and well crafted. The door was against the opposite wall and the room was altogether richly furnished, and looked as if it belonged in a castle. For all Marik knew, he could be in a castle right now.

After a few more moments of silent assessment, Marik came to the conclusion that escape wasn't within reason unless he was stronger. With this in mind, he lay back down and closed his eyes, hoping to get some sleep.

As he lay there, he wondered who had won that fight. He assumed it had been Malik; he was incredibly strong, and yet Marik couldn't imagine how Malik had come by the money to have a house anything like this one. On the other hand, Marik didn't think that anyone could take Malik, but if anyone could, it would be Bakura. But Marik had seen what looked like a dagger plunging toward something white, and although the memory was fuzzy, Marik had interpreted that as Bakura being stabbed. The more Marik thought about it, the more it didn't add up.

"Miss me?"

Marik's head snapped around to the one door to find it open with a figure outlined leaning against the doorframe. He recognized that British accent.

"Bakura?"

**(A/N: For anyone who is confused here, I watch the dubbed version and Bakura has a British accent in the dubbed version, so…yeah.)**

The figure just chuckled softly in reply and walked into the room, closing the door behind him and sitting down in an armchair next to the bed. "Who else?"

"So, you won?" Marik asked, desperate to put his mind at ease.

Bakura smirked. "Yes."

"But…I saw you getting stabbed…"

Bakura's smirk grew wider. "Unfortunately for _Malik_," he spat the name, "however good he is with the Millenium rod, _he_ is not the expert in knives. That title belongs to me."

"So…he's dead?" Marik asked, his lavender eyes lighting up at the idea.

Bakura's face went blank and his eyes hardened. "Unfortunately, no. He managed to run, and you were bleeding, so…"

Marik's mind reeled. Bakura gave up _killing,_ let alone killing _Malik_, to _save him?_

"So…" Marik started, "what do you want from me?"

Bakura smirked at him; that seemed to be his only expression. "What makes you think I want something from you?"

"Well, you must want something pretty big from me, for you to give up killing Malik for it." In Marik's mind, this logic was undeniable.

"Maybe I want the same thing Malik did." Bakura purred softly, and to prove his point he swung himself up onto the bed and pinned Marik to it, then pressed him back until their faces were only centimeters apart.

"You wouldn't do it, Bakura." Marik said staring defiantly up into Bakura's crimson orbs.

"Why not?" Bakura asked, withdrawing a few inches and tracing a finger over Marik's slightly parted lips. Marik shivered. "It's not like I'm a better person than that. And you're _so_ conveniently restrained."

"Maybe you're not better than that, but you _are_ better than him." Marik challenged.

A flash of emotion passed over Bakura's face, but it was gone too quickly for Marik to identify it, replaced with Bakura's trademark smirk. Bakura swung himself off the bed and started to walk towards the door. When he got to the doorway he paused and turned around. "You're right Marik." He said slowly, "I wouldn't do it. But not for the reasons you think." He started to leave but then paused again. "By the way, here." He tossed something across the room that landed right next to Marik's left ankle. "Feel free to wander around, just don't go outside."

With that, he left, closing the door behind him.

Marik blinked, then looked down at the object that Bakura had thrown. It was a key. Dare he hope? Marik picked it up with his feet, and rather expertly brought it up to his wrist. He had learned how to do this in his days of getting into trouble with the authorities in Egypt. The key fit into his handcuffs. He turned it carefully, and his bonds popped open. Marik grabbed the key in his unbound hand and quickly used it to free his other wrist. He sat for a moment on the bed rubbing his wrists, then stood up slowly, pocketing the key, and walked over to the door. Even though he knew it would be locked, he tried the handle just in case. To his amazement, the handle clicked and the door swung open. Even though he was shocked, Marik was ready for anything. He grabbed the door and pulled it so that it was just barely ajar, praying to the gods that nobody had heard the door swing open. Marik stood there for a moment wondering what to do. He walked back and sat down on the bed, running through all the facts in his mind. Why the hell would Bakura give him the key to his handcuffs and then leave the door unlocked? There was no way it was an accident. It had to be a trap. On the other hand, even if it was a trap, sitting around in this room wasn't getting him anywhere. With that in mind, Marik crept back to the door and opened it just enough for him to peer out and check if there was anyone nearby. There wasn't.

He swung open the door just a little farther and slipped out, keeping a low profile as he crept along the outside wall. When he reached the first fork in the hallways, he glanced in both directions and, seeing no one, randomly chose the left path. He went down it quickly and found himself in a huge dining room. Unfortunately for Marik, there was a maid in this room. She was setting the table, for dinner he assumed, and the room was too open for him to hide quickly enough. He ducked behind a curtain anyway despite the fact that she had already spotted him. It couldn't hurt to try, since he would be unable to lie himself out of this one. Marik was an excellent liar, but it was pretty much impossible for him to make up a convincing lie about why he was where he was, since he didn't even _know_ where he was.

"Excuse me, sir?" The maid asked politely.

Marik stepped out from his hiding place; it was useless now.

"Pardon my asking, sir, but why are you sneaking around? Did the master not tell you that you were free to wander the estate?"

"I-I think he did." Marik stuttered, recalling Bakura's parting words. _Bakura is the master?_ "But I…I didn't believe him."

The maid nodded her head in understanding.

"Well anyway," she said, "come with me, please." She began to walk off, and Marik followed, not knowing what else to do.

As they walked, she explained, "My name is Jen. I'm sorry you didn't feel welcome here at first, but you _are_ a guest. It's just that…hospitality is not one of the master's strong points. Anyway, he told us you'd be wandering around, and that if any of us found you, we were to bring you to him at once. Don't worry," she added, seeing the wary look in the Egyptian's eyes, "He really doesn't mean you harm, or he wouldn't have brought you here. He even treated your injuries and everything. Personally."

"Really? He fixed me up _himself_?"

"Yep. And you're the first guest we've had in a _long_ time, so try not to get yourself kicked out. It'd be nice to have a new face around here. I want you to know that the master actually cares about you. And that's really saying something, because he doesn't really care about anyone else, that's for sure. So try not to mess this up. Wanna know a secret?"

"Sure." said Marik. This maid was turning out to be quite the talker.

"The staff here all have a theory that beneath the icy exterior, the master is actually a good person, and it's nice to see him care about _something_ other than stealing. So _really_ try not to screw this up." At this point she had dropped to a whisper and stopped outside a large wooden door. "Well, here we are." she told him, dropping the whisper but not doing that cough-cough-very-loud-exagerated-pointed-so-obviously-a-cover-up-for-something voice that people sometimes did. "He's in his study."

Marik nodded to her, with the explicit intention to ignore her advice. He was trying to escape, if he got himself kicked out it would be all the easier. Hospitality not Bakura's strong point, huh? He didn't believe that shit about Bakura being a good person...that just wasn't Bakura. Obviously Jen wasn't aware that Marik had woken up _chained to a bed_! How's that for hospitality? **(A/N: LOLL mental sarcasm…)**

She walked away, but not before giving him a pointed 'I'll leave you to it' look.

Too bad he wasn't going to do what she thought he was.

Marik took a deep breath and walked through the doors, closing it behind him more out of habbit than anything else.

The study was nothing like he had expected. That is, it looked nothing like the rest of the estate so far as Marik had seen. This room looked as though it had gotten Bakura's personal touch. Everything was in dark colors, mostly navy and black. Along the walls were bookshelves, containing many volumes, most of which looked to be about ancient Egypt. There was also a variety of glass cases, containing what looked like ancient Egyptian artifacts that Bakura had most likely stolen from a variety of museums.

There was a large walk-in fireplace set in the opposite wall, and surrounding it were a few comfortable looking armchairs.

Bakura was seated in one of these chairs, and didn't even look up as Marik entered, merely gesturing to the chair beside him as he continued to gaze into the flames.

Marik walked the considerable distance and sat in the chair beside his captor.

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